


The Spaceship Impala

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Category: Passengers (2016), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Passengers (2016), Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Android Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Sex in Space, This is Passengers with a better ending, Top Dean, Top Sam, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Unrelated Winchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-26 18:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12563744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: Dean Winchester is an engineer in hibernation aboard the starship Impala, journeying alongside five thousand other passengers to a new beginning. When his pod malfunctions, he wakes up ninety years too early.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is a rewrite of the 2016 movie "Passengers" starring Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Pratt. I didn't like the ending of that movie, so I did my best to make this more palatable.
> 
>  
> 
> [Art by amberdreams](https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/531229.html)
> 
> [Betaed by the ever lovely majesticduxk](http://majesticduxk.tumblr.com/)

A starship full of sleeping passengers is an eerie sight.

The Impala moves silently through the empty of space, a massive black beast of a machine. In her heart, the fire of a fusion reactor core rages. In her bridge, systems whir and hum, keeping everything running smoothly. In her belly, five thousand passengers sleep.

She is the perfect creation. Self-repairing, self-guiding. Sleek and beautiful, her engines light the vast darkness with a pale blue light. Her arms spin, centrifugal force on her outer edges creating a false gravity to replicate the manmade gravity of her body. Her course is plotted, her destination planned. She has a deadline to keep and will stop for no one and nothing.


	2. Dean

Dean groans when his bed is suddenly lifted up. He tries to move, to react, but can’t do much more than open his eyes. The first thing he sees is the image of a pretty woman in uniform on a hologram screen.

“Hello, Dean,” she says cheerfully. “Welcome back. It is natural to feel disoriented. You have been in hibernation aboard the starship Impala for 120 years. We will be arriving at Homestead II in approximately four months.”

The bed- pod, he vaguely recalls- moves smoothly to a strange compartment. A soft blue light flows over his body.

“Please hold still while we ensure that you have exited hibernation properly,” the hologram says. The machine beeps and the light turns off. “You are in perfect health. You may now exit your pod.”

The pod tilts upright more and Dean tumbles out of it, barely managing to grab onto conveniently placed handholds. When he’s steady enough, a door opens and he is directed out into an empty hallway. The walls and floor are made of a smooth, white plastic-like substance. It’s cool under his bare feet.

“The lights will direct you to your cabin,” the voice says. “Get some rest. In the morning, you will meet your fellow passengers and attend an orientation.”

Dean makes his way down a few long hallways until he reaches what must be the cabin area of the ship. Door 1967 lights up. When he approaches, the voice instructs him to scan his wristband. Clumsily, Dean presses the back of his wrist to the scanner beside the door. It beeps and the door slides open.

“Please collect your luggage,” the hologram voice tells him.

A compartment opens beside the door, revealing the two bags he was allowed to bring. He scans his wristband again and puts his bags by the foot of the bunk. Too tired to do anything else, he crawls beneath the covers and goes to sleep.

Dean feels much better when he wakes up. He showers, enjoying the way the hot water loosens his stiff muscles, and shaves. He lingers in front of the mirror longer than he usually would, contemplating the clothing he put on and whether to wear his leather jacket (he changes his mind on the way out the door).

The halls are empty still, which is a little disconcerting. Makes it feel like he’s the only one on the entire ship. He makes his way down to the bizarrely empty cafeteria. There are several large consoles along the center of the room that he recognizes from the virtual tour of the ship he did before going into hibernation. He pokes at the screen, getting frustrated when it won’t give him any of the foods he wants because he’s only a “general” passenger and sugar in his coffee is a luxury only “gold” passengers have.

Grumbling over his nutrition square, corn flakes, and black coffee, Dean sits at the closest table. He eats slowly, waiting for someone else to join him, but no one ever does. Still confused, Dean puts his empty tray in the disposal slot and follows the hologram lady’s directions to his orientation room. He takes a seat near the back, even though every bench is empty.

As soon as he’s sitting down, the lights dim and a hologram at the front of the room comes to life. Another pretty woman in uniform starts talking about Homestead II, spouting the company lines about a new start, room to grow, etc.

“Excuse me,” Dean says, getting the program’s attention.

“Please hold questions until the end,” she says. “As I was saying-”

“Something’s wrong,” Dean interrupts. “I’m the only one here. Where are the rest of the passengers?”

“I do not understand,” the hologram replies. “Please hold questions until the end.”

Dean takes a deep breath, trying to keep calm, but the panic is too much. He runs from the room and spots a sign for the “Grand Concourse.” He follows the directions to an elevator, where the helpful voice directs him to buckle his seatbelt because the elevator will experience a “temporary loss of gravity.” He’s not stupid, so he buckles up.

When the elevator door opens, he finds himself in a huge open area that reminds him of a shopping mall. Just like everywhere else he’s been so far, it’s empty, but there’s an information kiosk.

“How can I help you?” it asks when he approaches, hologram spinning to show a cartoon smiley face.

“I need to talk to the captain,” Dean demands.

“The captain is in hibernation in the crew pod room.”

The crew is in hibernation still? That can’t be right.

Unsure what to do next, Dean wanders away from the kiosk, passing empty shops as he ventures deeper into the concourse. He doesn’t see a single person.

Eventually he makes it to the far end of the area, where he finds a door labeled “Planetarium.” He scans his wristband and goes inside. As soon as he enters, the dark room lights up with a hologram of the universe. It’s like he’s standing in the center.

“Welcome,” a deep male voice says. “What can I show you?”

“Show me Homestead II,” Dean says after a moment of hesitation.

The hologram spins and changes, and he’s looking at the planet that will be his home. The voice starts telling him about the planet, but he tunes that out. The planet looks beautiful and calm. Just seeing it helps him feel better.

“How long until we arrive?” he asks on a whim, eyes never leaving the three dimensional image.

The planet shrinks and a dotted line appears, leading from Homestead II to a hologram of Earth. Drifting along the line, far closer to Earth than he thought it would be, is the Impala.

“We will arrive at Homestead II in approximately 90 years,” the voice announces.

Dean’s going to be sick. His knees give out and he crumples to the floor, eyes locked on the slowly spinning starship.

He woke up early.


	3. Dean

When he regains the use of his legs, Dean returns to the information kiosk.

“I need to send a message to Earth,” he says.

“That way,” the kiosk says, displaying an arrow.

He runs in that direction and finds a sign at the entrance to a small hallway. At the end are several offices. One has an information desk. He sits down and the computer automatically boots up.

“I need to send a message to Earth,” Dean says again, fingers tight on the arms of the chair.

The screen shows a microphone symbol and record button. “When you’re ready, speak to record your message.”

Dean forces a deep breath. “Um… Hi, whoever gets this. My name is Dean Winchester. I’m an engineer and a passenger aboard the starship Impala. My hibernation pod malfunctioned and I woke up ninety years early. I need help. I guess, if you get this, please tell me how to get back into hibernation. That’s… that’s it. That’s all I have to say.”

He sits back and the record button on the screen disappears.

“Message recorded,” the computer says. “Send message?”

A big send button lights up on screen and Dean hits it. It changes to an image of the ship, with dotted lines leading to and from a picture of Earth.

“Message will arrive in sixteen years,” the voice tells him. “Reply will arrive in thirty-four years.”

Thirty-four years.

He wants to scream and break something, but he can’t move. He can’t even breath. He can only stare at the blinking number on the screen, until the voice asks if he needs anything else and startles him from his shock enough for him to pull air into his lungs.

Dean manages to stumble back out into the main area. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he doesn’t feel very surprised when he finds himself in what is most definitely a bar. He’s shocked to see a man standing behind the counter cleaning glasses.

“Hello,” the man says. “I’m Castiel. What can I do for you?”

“Gimme whiskey on the rocks,” Dean tells him, sliding onto a stool. While Castiel pours, Dean studies him. He’s wearing a neatly pressed white shirt with a red blazer over it. “I thought I was the only one awake,” he says, accepting the drink. “I haven’t seen anyone else.”

“You’re my first customer today,” Castiel informs him. “But I’m sure things will pick up soon.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I’m the only one awake besides you.”

“I’m sure the others will be up soon.”

Something’s not right with this guy. “How long have you been awake?” Dean asks.

“Since the ship was first built.” Castiel replies.

Brow furrowing, Dean stands on his toes to look over the bar. Castiel doesn’t have legs. From the waist down, he has one mechanical leg attached to a track on the floor.

“You’re an android,” Dean observes.

“I am,” Castiel agrees.

Sitting back on his stool, Dean takes a drink of his whiskey. The burn is exactly what he needs to deal with this situation right now. “I really am alone, then.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Castiel says solemnly.

Dean rolls his eyes and finishes off his drink. “Yeah, I'm sure you are. Get me another.”

“Of course.”

Castiel- or Cas, as Dean has taken to calling him- turns out to be decent company. Every time a plan to fix his problem doesn’t pan out, Cas is ready at the end of the day with a glass of Dean’s favorite whiskey or beer and a few words of bartender-style wisdom.

Dean quickly exhausts every option he has. He finds manuals for the ship, including the hibernation pods, but nothing he tries puts him back into hibernation. He spends days attempting to break down the door of the room containing the crew’s pods. When nothing he tries works, he doesn’t even try to get into the bridge. There’s no point. If he can’t get in with his wristband, he can’t get in at all.

The day he reaches that conclusion, he makes his way down to the bar earlier than usual. If Cas notices- he probably does, the creeper notices everything- he doesn’t mention it.

“It’s hopeless, Cas,” Dean says, leaning heavily on the bar. “There’s no way for me to go back to hibernation.” He explained his situation to Cas that very first day, so the android knows what he’s talking about. “I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I _can_ do.”

“I’m not sure how to help you,” Cas says. “But if you’re unhappy with your circumstances, only you can implement a change.”

Dean stares at the android for a moment, alcohol fuzzy-brain slowly processing the words. “You’re right,” he says finally, when understanding sets in. “You’re absolutely right, Cas.”

Dean has the entire ship to himself and while his wristband doesn’t get him into certain parts, he’s definitely not taking advantage of certain amenities. The first thing he does is force his way into one of the Gold Passenger suites. It’s two levels, with a large living room for entertaining guests on the first level. The second houses the bed- which is almost three times the size of the bed in Dean’s assigned cabin- the closet, and a massive bathroom with an in-the-floor tub and multi-head shower. Dean spends a few hours moving all of his stuff- he already unpacked, so he has to triple check that he’s not forgetting anything. Once he’s settled in, he takes a long shower. The water pressure is amazing compared to his old cabin. Why he didn’t think to do this weeks ago, he’s not sure.

Feeling clean and relaxed, Dean decides to explore the ship. The Grand Concourse is set up like a giant mall, with all sorts of robot-run businesses lining the walkways. There’s restaurants of every kind, dozens of different stores, a gym, and a huge arcade of sorts.

Dean’s not sure where to starts, so he closes his eyes and points to a random spot on the map just inside the entrance of the arcade. He ends up with a version of something along the lines of Just Dance that pits the player against a holographic opponent. He sets it to the easiest level, but still gets his but kicked. Luckily Dean isn’t one to give up easily.

Over the next few months, Dean becomes an expert at every game in the arcade. In addition to this, he can make a shot from the midpoint of the basketball court, he’s tried dozens of foods he never would’ve eaten before, and is in better shape than he ever was on earth. He still goes to the bar every night to chat with Cas. If the android notices Dean’s improved mood, he doesn’t say anything about it.


	4. Dean

Despite accepting his situation for what it is, Dean’s good mood can’t last forever. It’s not long before the amenities of the starship and Cas’ stilted conversations aren’t enough to patch the void in his chest. He wakes up one morning and realizes just how alone he is. He misses Adam, his younger brother. He really misses his Aunt Ellen and his cousin, Jo. He even misses his dad, to an extent.

After that realization, it’s harder to motivate himself to stay positive. None of the things he enjoyed before bring pleasure anymore. He spends more time in the bar and less in the gym. Eventually, he spends less time in the bar as well. There’s a bar in his borrowed cabin that he barely touched before, but now he’s working his way through it at a rapid pace. Lucky for him- but not for his liver- things get restocked pretty quickly.

Somehow one evening he finds himself stumbling through the hibernation pod room. He finds his empty pod and stops by it, setting his empty whiskey bottle down. He stares at it for a long time before he can’t look anymore. He wanders further into the room, to areas he hasn’t explored yet, and is surprised to find a door his wristband can open.

“Welcome to Space Walk, Mr. Winchester,” the familiar voice says when he enters. “Please listen closely to the instructions.”

Dean barely listens. Inside the room are two space suits, standing upright in the center. One is too small, but one looks like it would fit him perfectly. The helmets are in a glass-covered compartment on the wall. When Dean scans his wristband, the compartment opens. He takes the larger helmet. It undocks from it’s spot with a click and the bigger suit starts to move. It’s stand slides forward and the suit splits into two parts, straight down the center. Dean sets the helmet down and climbs into the suit, feeling it latch shut around him. Moving is difficult- space suits are not light- and it takes him a moment to figure out how to pick up his helmet. Once he puts it on, it locks into place.

He steps into the airlock and the door shuts behind him. He awkwardly pulls down the handle to depressurize the compartment. As soon as the button next to the handle turns green, a cords shoots out of a hole in the wall and fastens itself to the waistband of his space suit. Dean pushes the button. The second door opens with a soft wir. A few steps forward and Dean is standing on the side of the ship.

“Press the button on your wrist to unlock the magnetic boots,” the voice tells him.

Dean slowly walks to the edge of the wing of the ship. Looking around, he can see just more airlocks like the one he exited in a row along the wing, but his focus isn’t on those or the massive ship he’s standing on. All he can see is the stars.

They’re innumerable- more than he ever saw from earth, with it’s light pollution. Tiny flickering specks on the endless black fabric of space, so far out of his reach. He feels impossibly small when faced with the the vast empty void in front of him, knowing it’s very likely he’s the only living thing for lightyears in any direction.

He pushes the button to turn off his boots and immediately begins floating. It’s a little disconcerting at first, floating with nothing holding him to the ship but a metal cord. But even when he reaches the end of his tether, the stars look no closer and the hole in his chest is no smaller.

Dean’s not sure how long he drifts before he asks the computer to reel him back in. He’s in a bit of a daze, moving mindlessly as he gets out of the suit. He lets the helmet fall to the floor and turns back to look out of the airlock. His bare feet stick a little to the floor when he moves. The interior door slides open behind him and the voice tells him to have a nice evening, but his hand curls around the red handle, his eyes locked on the handful of starts he can see through the small window on the outer door.

It would be so easy. All he would have to do it pull the handle and push the button to open the outside door, and it would all be over. So easy. So devastatingly easy.

He jerks his hand back like he’s been burned and barely gives the inner door time to open before he’s through it. He’s not sure where he’s running to, but he knows he can’t be here anymore. The hibernation pod room feels too small, like the ceilings and walls are closing in to crush him, in comparison to the great nothing outside the ship. He’s running blindly, no looking where he’s going, and it’s honestly not a surprise when he falls.

Dean feels the smooth coldness of the glass bottle he dropped earlier under his foot just before he crashes to the floor. He slides a little, thanks to the way the bottle rolls, before coming to a halt in the middle of the aisle between pod groups. It takes a while to motivate himself to move, to sit up and lift his head and look right at the face of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.


	5. Dean

His name is Sam Wesson and he’s amazing.

He’s twenty-five and a journalist from Kansas City. Dean downloads his passenger file onto a tablet thing he finds in the desk of his borrowed suite. He can read all the article and books Sam’s ever written, and he plans to, but first he needs to get to know Sam.

He reads the bio put together by Sam and those closest to him- Dean remembers sitting at the kitchen table in his tiny apartment while Adam and Jo helped him write his own bio. Then he watches Sam’s interviews. There are hours of footage of Sam laughing and smiling and chatting with the interviewer like they’ve been best friends their whole lives.

“ _Why did you decide to journey to Homestead II?_ ” the interviewer asks. Dean has the tablet propped up against his mug, watching the screen intently as he chews the flavorless protein cube provided for general passengers.

Sam is smiling softly, like the thought is a fond one. “ _I guess I want an adventure. I want to do what no one’s done before and I want to be able to tell the story of the people who are making this adventure with me._ ”

Dean’s heart feels warm in his chest as he pauses the video. Sam’s eyes are bright- it’s clear he’s excited about the journey ahead of him. Dean never felt that excited. He’s here because he family will get a portion of the money he earns- far more money than he could ever get in any job available to him on earth. What does it feel like to be here for _fun_?

After he puts his tray in the slot by the door, Dean makes his way down to the hibernation pod room. He brought a chair down a few days ago and left it by Sam’s pod.

“Good morning, Sam,” he says, gazing through the glass at the sleeping man.

He’s really never seen anyone as beautiful as Sam. The younger man is tall, the standard-sized pod barely long enough for his body, and clearly in good shape. His skin is golden-tanned and looks like it would feel like velvet under Dean’s calloused hands. His long hair is a little longer than in the interview, curling softly around his ears and the base of his neck. Dean wants to run his fingers through it.

Dean settles into the chair by Sam’s pod and sets the tablet up on his knee. He presses play.

“ _Have you always been this adventurous?_ ” the interviewer inquires.

“To an extent. My dad was a writer to and I can remember him going to extremes for a story. He used to tell me that a good story is worth the effort you put into it. If you want to do well at something, you have to work hard. I never understood what he meant when I was younger, but now I get it. The stories that mean the most to me are the ones I had to fight for.”

Dean leans back in his chair and listens.

After he’s finished going through Sam’s entire passenger profile, Dean moves on to reading everything Sam has ever written. He has three best-selling novels and hundreds of articles, short stories, etc. on a variety of subjects. Dean uses the time he’s spending reading to get into shape, setting the tablet up where he can easily see it during each of his workouts. He barely drinks anymore, settling for a beer or maybe a few fingers of whiskey in the evening when he stops in to see Castiel. By this point, Cas knows as much about Sam as Dean does. He seems glad to see Dean happy again.

“It’s clear you have feelings for this man,” Cas says one night, a few weeks from the one-year mark of Dean waking up. “Do you plan to act on them?”

Dean sighs, slumping against the bar. “No. It wouldn’t be fair to him, to wake him up early as well. I can’t condemn another person to death on this god forsaken ship.”

Cas hums thoughtfully, setting aside the glass he’s been cleaning for the last few minutes. “Then perhaps you’d better forget about him. You will only cause yourself more pain.”

He’s right, for an android with little understanding of human feelings. If Dean doesn’t nip this in the bud now, he’s going to end up hurting even more than he already is. He can’t seem to stop, though. Something keeps pulling him back to the hibernation pod room, to stare down at the face of the first man Dean’s felt anything for in a long, long time. He knows it could all be a lie. Maybe Sam’s a really good actor and is really an asshole in person, but something in Dean’s heart tells him that can’t be true. No one with anything less than the purest soul could write the things Sam writes.

He knows he can’t wake Sam up. It wouldn’t be right or fair to do so. It would, in fact, be murder. He would be condemning Sam to live and die on the Impala, without any hope of ever reaching Homestead II. Sam would never be able to look at him, let alone love him, if he were to wake him up early. He would be stuck living the rest of his life on a ship with a man who hates him.

He reminds himself of this every day when he visits Sam- as he's examining the hibernation pod- as he's scouring the manual for how to manually wake someone up. It's wrong, it's not a good idea, it's not fair to Sam.

But Dean can't do it. Every night he goes to sleep alone and every morning he wakes up alone and every meal he eats alone bring him one step closer to pulling the handle in the airlock. Cas has no advice beyond a cliche “follow your heart”. Well, Dean's heart is breaking.

“What he doesn't know won't kill him,” Dean murmurs under his breath as he pops open the side panel of the pod. Sam looks so peaceful, dark lashes fanned across his high cheekbones. Dean wants to kiss the mole next to his nose. “What he doesn't know won't kill him.”

The pod hums to life suddenly and Dean startles, falling back. He quickly gathers all his tools, placing the manual between his teeth to free up his hands, and rises slowly as the pod moves to a more upright position. He sees Sam stirs and decides he better get out of there fast.

He shoves the manual back onto the shelf in the office by the door and races back to his borrowed suite, where he shoves the tool kit in his closet where he’s been keeping it. He sits on the bed and holds his head in his hands.

“What did I do?” he murmurs, stomach twisting. “What did I _do_?”


	6. Sam

“Good morning, Samuel,” a pleasant voice says. It sounds like it’s right in front of Sam’s face. He hums softly and opens his eyes to see a pretty woman in uniform on a screen right in front of his face. “Welcome back. It is natural to feel disoriented. You have been in hibernation aboard the starship Impala for 120 years. We will be arriving at Homestead II in approximately four months.”

The bed- hibernation pod- drifts across what Sam thinks must be a very large room and into a compartment, where a soft blue light scans him.

“Please hold still while we ensure that you have exited hibernation properly,” the hologram says. Sam hears a quiet and the light turns off. “You are in perfect health. You may now exit your pod.”

The pod tilts upright more and Sam falls out, hands flying up to grab onto conveniently placed handholds. When he’s able to stand on his own, a door opens and he is directed out into an empty hallway made of a smooth, white plastic-like substance. It’s cool under his bare feet, sticking a little to his skin. He feels like he shouldn’t be walking on it- like when his mom had just mopped the kitchen floor. Too clean.

“The lights will direct you to your cabin,” the voice says. “Get some rest. In the morning, you will meet your fellow passengers and attend an orientation.”

Sam moves slowly down a few long hallways until he reaches what must be the cabin area of the ship. Door 2005 lights up. When he approaches, the voice instructs him to scan his wristband. Sam holds the back of his wrist to the scanner beside the door. It beeps and the door slides open, revealing a pretty decent living space.

“Please collect your luggage,” the hologram voice tells him.

A compartment opens beside the door, revealing the four bags he packed. He scans his wristband again and puts his bags by the foot of the stairs. He really wants to go up to the loft and sleep in a bed, but he’s not sure he’ll make it up the stairs, so instead he settles on the couch. He’s out within minutes.

When Sam wakes in the morning, he feels rather refreshed despite sleeping on the couch. He showers in a shower much nicer than the one in his apartment on earth and dries off with the softest towels he’s ever touched. He’s just finished dressing when his stomach makes itself known, so he runs his fingers through his damp hair and makes his way down to the cafeteria.

He’s notices something is wrong right off the bat- there’s no way a ship like the Impala should be this empty.

Instead of going to the cafeteria, Sam ignores his growling stomach and heads for the Grand Concourse- he vaguely recalls the location from when he memorized the blueprints of the ship while preparing for his journey. The Grand Concourse is just as empty as the rest of the ship so far and Sam’s stomach is starting to twist itself into knots. He tries asking a kiosk for help, but it can’t do much for him.

A soft sound startles him and he whirls, staring around. He can’t see anything except a machine cleaning the floor by the fountain.

“Hello?” he calls, slowly stepping further into the massive room. He sees movement through the fountain and freezes.

“Hello,” a deep voice says. There’s an emotion in the tone that Sam can’t quite place.

“Who are you?” Sam asks, moving until he can see the other person. The man is stunning, hopeful green eyes over full lips and a strong jaw. His shoulders are broad and his hair in an almost-military cut, but his expression is gentle and Sam immediately feels safe in the presence of this stranger.

“Dean Winchester,” the man answers. “You?”

“Sam Wesson. Is anyone else awake? You’re the first person I’ve seen today.”

Dean shakes his head. “No. You’re the only other person I’ve seen since I woke up.”

“When did you wake up?” Sam inquires, rounding the fountain to stop a few feet from Dean.

The other man rubs a hand over his face and through his spiky dirty-blonde hair. “One year, two weeks, and five days.”

Sam is torn between throwing up and hugging Dean. “How… what happened?”

“I don’t know. My pod malfunctioned. Yours must’ve malfunctioned, too. We’re not supposed to be awake.” He gestures for Sam to follow him. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Dean leads the way into the depths if the Grand Concourse and opens a door marked “Planetarium”. The room inside is dimly lit, but lights up into a beautiful hologram of space when Dean shuts the door.

“Welcome,” a deep male voice says. “What can I show you?”

“Show us Homestead II,” Dean says.

The hologram spins and changes, and suddenly Sam’s looking at the planet that will be his home. The voice starts telling them about the planet, but he's not listening. The planet looks peaceful. Just seeing it soothes the ache in his chest

“How much time is left?” Dean asks, folding his arms over his chest.

The planet shrinks and a dotted line appears, leading from Homestead II to a hologram of Earth. On the line, far closer to Earth than Sam expected, is a tiny holographic Impala.

“We will arrive at Homestead II in approximately 89 years.”


	7. Dean

Sam is working on the door to the crew pods again.

Dean can hear the banging as he wanders closer to that end of the ship. Despite telling the younger man that there’s no use, Sam is stubborn. He won’t give up until he’s tried everything, apparently.

“Sam,” Dean says softly, approaching the frantic man as he hammers at the most damaged spots of the door. “It’s no use.”

Sam lets the sledge hammer fall, chest heaving under his loose t-shirt. “There has to be a way in.”

“Don’t you think I would’ve found it if there was?” Dean suggests, leaning against the wall by the door. A variety of tools are spread out in a half circle around the door, where Sam dropped them.

“Maybe you didn’t look hard enough,” Sam snaps, lifting the hammer again.

Dean knows he doesn’t mean it, but the harshness of Sam’s tone still hurts. “Sam. Come on. How about you at least take a break? You’re going to hurt yourself at this rate.”

Sam sighs and sets the hammer down. He leans against the doorframe and stares at Dean with broken eyes.

“I don’t want to die on this ship,” he says quietly.

“I know,” Dean replies. “I don’t want to die here, either.”

He hasn’t introduced Sam to Castiel yet, but he wants to. He sends Sam back to his quarters to get cleaned up and hurries down to the bar. He needs to talk to Cas before meeting Sam by the fountain.

“Good afternoon, Dean,” Cas says in as peppy a tone as he can manage.

“Cas, I’m bringing Sam in here,” Dean tells him. “He doesn’t know that I’m the one who woke him up and I want to be the one who tells him. Don’t mention it to him at all. Understand?”

“Of course, Dean,” the android assures him. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” Dean feels much better now. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves the bar to wait nervously by the fountain. When Sam exits the elevator, Dean’s breath catches in his throat.

Sam isn’t dressed in anything fancy, but he looks amazing all the same. His red plaid button down highlights the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist. His jeans cling to his long, muscular legs in all the right places. The flex of forearms left bare by rolled sleeves leaves Dean’s mouth dry. His hair is slightly damp, curling on the ends. He wipes away a small water droplet that is making it’s way down the line of his jaw.

“Lookin’ good,” Dean says, trying to sound casual.

“Thanks,” Sam says. “What did you want to show me?”

“The bar,” Dean replies with a wink.

“I forgot there’s a bar.” Sam chuckles softly. It’s the first vaguely happy sound he’s made since he woke up as far as Dean knows, and it’s beautiful. He wants to make Sam laugh forever. “Lead the way.”

Castiel is cleaning glasses behind the bar, humming softly to himself to fill the silence of the room. He looks up when they enter.

“Good afternoon,” he says. “You must be Sam. Dean has told me much about you.” Dean’s heart and stomach clench at those words, but relax when Cas continues. “Your pod malfunctioned a week ago. I’m surprised it took so long for us to meet. Dean was in here the very day he awake.” Cas is grinning, his words carrying a light, teasing tone.

Sam is staring, mouth open. Dean laughs and gently taps his chin.

“You’ll catch flies, if there are any here. This is Castiel- I call him Cas. He’s an android.”

“Oh,” Sam says, blushing softly.

“Don’t worry, I was fooled, too. What’s your poison? Cas is an expert at all mixed drinks, or there’s a decent selection of whiskeys and beers.” Dean hops up onto a stool and pats the one next to him.

Sam slides easily onto the stool, his height giving him a slight advantage over Dean. “I think I’ll stick with whiskey tonight,” he says. “Neat.”

“Make that two, Cas.”

The android bartender quickly prepares the two drinks before returning to polishing glasses further down the bar.

“Is that all he does?” Sam asks, eyeing the humanoid robot.

“Pretty much. He dispenses bartender-style advice, too, and he’s a good listener.”

“Still can’t replace actual human companionship,” Sam point out.

Dean shrugs. “It certainly helped this past year. Having someone to talk to and having them talk back.”

“Still. I’m not sure how you survived a whole year on your own.”

“Guess I’m tougher than I thought. I kept pretty busy. There’s a lot to do around here and it kept my mind off the loneliness most days.”

Sam nods in understanding, leaning on the bar and taking a drink of his whiskey. “I don’t think I could have done it. I’m struggling as is and I’m not alone.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’ve had time to adjust. You just got thrown into this. It gets easier.”

“I wish it didn’t have to get easier.” Sam stares at his drink, swirling it slowly in the glass before finishing it off. “You’re sure there isn’t a way to go back into hibernation?”

“I’m sure. Unfortunately.” Dean finishes his own drink and signals Cas for two more. The android slides along his track and quickly refills their glasses. “Thanks, Cas.”

Sam sighs. He downs his second drink in a few swallows before slamming down the glass and standing. “I’m going to bed.”

Dean quickly finishes his drink and gets up. “Let me walk you to your room.”

The younger man blushes softly, but nods. “Okay. I would like that.”

Nothing happens when they get to Sam’s cabin, but Dean’s okay with that. He’s not going to chase after Sam right now- he wants Sam to come to him when he’s ready.


	8. Dean

After that first night in the bar, Dean finds it easier to come up with reasons to spend more time with Sam. It helps that they’re the only people on the entire ship. When Sam wants human contact, he finds Dean. He hacks the intercom system- apparently Sam is fairly decent with computers- so they can find each other anywhere on the ship. Their cabins- Sam’s assigned and Dean’s “borrowed”- are only a few doors down from each other, but somehow Dean never sees Sam in the morning. He’s not sure how early the tall man gets up, but it seems to be long before Dean does. Sam has usually worked out, showered, eaten, and started on whatever he wants to do that day by the time Dean wanders his way into the Grand Concourse. So he’s surprised when a pajama-clad Sam stumbles into the cafeteria just as Dean’s sitting down for breakfast.

“Morning,” he says, poking at his protein cube and shooting Sam a curious look.

Sam looks, quite frankly, simultaneously hot as hell and adorable in his plaid pants and worn grey t-shirt that clings to his pecs in just the right ways, highlighting his narrow waist. His long hair is a little messy, but he tames it with a few swipes of his fingers.

“Morning,” Sam replies, scanning his wristband. He pushes some buttons and after a few minutes the sliding door opens, releasing the smell of waffles, fresh bacon, and coffee into the air. Dean’s eyes go wide as his stomach growls.

He eyes Sam’s tray as the younger man sits across from him, suddenly very aware of the difference in their statuses, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to make Sam feel bad or something.

Sam settles into his seat with a sigh and picks up what looks like some kind of cappuccino, complete with a pleasant leaf design in the foam and a sprinkling of what looks like cinnamon. He’s about to take a drink when his eyes fall to Dean’s tray.

“What’s that?” he asks, making a face at the protein cube.

Dean pokes it with his fork. “I’m not really sure. Something designed to keep the general passengers alive, but not much else.”

“Wait, seriously? You’re only a general passenger?” Sam seems surprised by this news. Of course, as far as he knew, the “borrowed” cabin was actually assigned to Dean.

“Yeah. I busted into that cabin after a few months of being awake, mostly because nobody was here to stop me. But I can’t get around the food restrictions, unfortunately.”

“Well, you’re not eating that anymore. I’ll let you use my Gold status. Come on, let’s order you something worthwhile.”

“No, Sam, you don’t-“

“I insist. Come on. Throw that crap away. You’re never going to have to eat it again.”

Dean wasn’t expecting this, but he should have. Sam has a big heart and seems to really enjoy helping people. He remembers reading about all the volunteer work Sam did back on Earth, from shelters to third world countries to everything in between. No cause was too small for Sam Wesson and it looks like Dean is his latest cause- at least, Dean’s breakfast is.

He almost cries when the fluffy scrambled eggs hit his tongue. His joy must be evident on his face, because Sam’s smile brightens and makes Dean’s heart skip a beat.

“Better?” Sam asks, cutting into his waffle.

“You have no idea.”

With those words, Dean tips his protein cube and bowl of dry cereal onto the floor. A small, round bot zips over to quickly clean up the mess before wandering away. Sam watches it go. When it stutters and makes a weird clicking noise. Stopping under another table, he shoots Dean a concerned look.

“Is it supposed to do that?”

Dean shakes his head as the bot starts up again and continues on it's way as if nothing happened. “No, it's not. Hopefully it's nothing serious.”

Frowning, Sam returns to his food.

Sam is an exercise fanatic, Dean realizes.

Not that Dean doesn’t work out. He keeps himself in decent shape, but he doesn’t obsess over it like Sam does. Sam keeps himself at peak performance. It takes him a while to find a rhythm after coming out of hibernation, but pretty soon he’s on such a regular schedule that Dean almost always knows where to find him on any given day of the week.

Right now, for example, Sam is running the length of the ship. Dean is sitting in the computer room where he sent his message from, poking around settings when he accidentally discovers the security cameras. They’re everywhere- state of the art technology, perfectly positioned along Sam’s route. He feels like a bit of a stalker, switching through the cameras to follow Sam through the hallways, and quickly turns them back off. He makes of mental note of how he got to that screen, in case he needs them later.

He leaves the computer room in time to see Sam slowing down beside the fountain. The younger man braces his hands on his knees for a moment, drawing a few deep breaths, before he starts stretching. He even looks gorgeous like this, skin shiny with sweat and hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. His thin grey t-shirt is clinging to his torso in all the right places.

“Morning, Dean,” he says, far too cheerful for someone who’s been up since six. “Any exciting plans for today?”

Dean shrugs. “There’s a service robot that broke. I was thinking of heading down to the engineering room and tinkering with it. You?”

Sam is currently sitting on the floor, one leg outstretched with his long torso folded over it. “Probably write.”

That sparks Dean’s interest. “What are you writing?”

“I figured since I’m awake, I might as well start my book about my experiences,” Sam tells him. “I don’t have much written yet, but that’s alright. I’m taking it one day at a time.”

“That makes sense. Holler if you need something. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Sure.” Sam pushes himself to his feet. “I’m thinking sushi today. What do you think?”

“Sushi sounds good to me.”

Sam’s face lights up, a smile that makes Dean’s heart beat faster. “Great. See you then.”

Dean feels like he’s walking on air as he makes his way down to the engineering room, where the broken bot it already waiting on the workbench. He’s never felt this way about anyone and he doesn’t even know if Sam feels the same, but he really hopes he does.

He sits in the chair at the workbench and turns the bot over, examining the design for a way in. He has a lot of work to do.

“So,” Sam says, popping a sushi roll in his mouth. “Why are you on the Impala?”

His recording device has been sitting by his plate the whole meal, but Dean only now notices the green light signaling that it’s recording. He wonders when Sam turned it on.

“Same as most people, I suppose,” Dean replies, gesturing vaguely with his chopsticks. “New beginnings. Change of pace. Adventure.” When Sam shoots him an unbelieving look, Dean sighs. “Honestly, I originally signed up on a whim. The money sounded good and my job wasn’t paying enough to put my little brother, Adam, through college. They offered enough money to pay for his college and more. I couldn’t… he’s my brother. There was no way I would be able to get Adam going in life on my own. This way, I could make sure he would have a good future. At least… that was my excuse. I guess I… just need something new? Other than Adam, there wasn’t anything left for me on earth.”

“Nothing at all?”

Dean shakes his head. “My mom died when I was young, and my dad died a few years before we left. It was just me and Adam, and we were never very close.”

“No friends? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” Sam gently prods.

“Lisa left me for an FBI agent. Benny was on the first Impala. I guess… I wasn’t important enough to anyone for them to stay.”

Sam is quiet a long time, watching Dean push a piece of rice around his plate, waiting for him to speak when he’s ready.

Dean draws a deep breath, steadying himself. He nudges Sam’s foot under the table. “Your turn. Why are you here?”

“I thought I was the one doing the interview,” Sam says with a laugh.

“We’ll take turns,” Dean suggests.

Sam grins. “Deal. I’m here for the story. I was planning to spend a year or two on Homestead II, mingling with the other passengers and learning their stories. Then I would’ve taken the ship back to Earth and published my novel. Be the first person to make it to another planet and back again, and be able to share that story with the future.”

“You’d have been a time traveler,” Dean points out.

“I’d have traveled further than anyone had before, too,” Sam agrees.

Dean’s heart aches. He hadn’t considered, when he woke Sam, the way it would ruin the younger man’s plans- ruin his life, really. He wants to tell Sam the truth, but he can’t. Not yet.


	9. Sam

Sam often finds himself on the observation deck.

He can write anywhere on the ship, really, but something about the stars and quiet broken only by the distant hum of the Impala’s engines is soothing. He can focus much better, alone on the edge of the ship. He can almost forget that he’s trapped on this ship- that he’s going to die before he ever reaches Homestead II.

The observation deck is designed in an amphitheater style, with big steps down to an open area. Sam thinks this will be a place for large meetings in the future- it’s certainly big enough.

He sits on the top step and sets up his recorder. It has a keyboard option, which he enjoys, but he’s gotten into doing vocal recordings lately. They allow him to get his thoughts out. He does have to go back over what he’s written, checking for awkward punctuation and misinterpreted words, but he doesn’t mind that. That’s when he gets to make sense of what he wrote. It’s a time-consuming process, but if there’s one thing he has, it’s time.

“This is the forty-sixth day since I woke up,” Sam says, watching the words appear on the holo-screen of the recorder. “It’s a good day. I feel okay today. Dean’s in a good mood, which is always nice. He’s still working on that bot. I don’t know what he’s doing to it. I asked and he said it was a surprise.”

It’s then that Sam hears the soft whir of a service bot motor. He glances over his shoulder to see what looks like a service bot, but modified. It has what looks like a camera on top and it stops right by Sam. An arm emerges from a slot on the front, a folded piece of paper with Sam’s name and a pen held in a claw.

Sam chuckles and takes the items. He unfolds the paper and reads it.

_Will you go out to me? 6pm, I’ll come get you from your cabin._

Smiling wider, Sam folds the paper, flips it over, and scribbles his response on the clean side. He holds it up for the camera to see.

Dean arrives almost exactly at six. Sam hesitates to go to the door, checking himself over in the bathroom mirror one last time. His hair isn’t doing anything weird, and there’s nothing on his face or in his teeth. He has no other reasons to stall. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he crosses the cabin and opens the door.

“Hi,” Dean says, voice soft as his eyes rake over Sam’s body before jumping to his face. “You look… wow.”

Sam feels a blush creeping across his cheeks, ducking his head. He’s not dressed in anything really special- just a white button down and black slacks, with a black blazer on top. “Thank you. You look good, too.”

Dean always looks good, but something about his red button-down is driving Sam crazy. It clings to his torso, sleeves bulging with every flex of his biceps. The older man offers his arm.

“Shall we go?” he asks.

Sam nods, taking Dean’s arm.

Dean takes him to Sam’s favorite of the restaurant options, the Italian place above the bar. It’s smaller, with a more cozy, intimate setting, incredible food, and, now, great conversation. They take their time, just enjoying each other’s company.

After the waiter-bot takes the empty plates, Dean leans across the table.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he says. “Ready?”

Dean takes him down to the room with the hibernation pods. They pass Sam’s empty pod and he avoids looking at it. He doesn’t want to think about that- not tonight, not with Dean smiling at him like that.

“This way,” Dean says, approaching a door Sam had never noticed before. He scans his wristband and it slides open to reveal a room with space suits on a stand along one wall.

“Oh…” Sam says softly, staring at the instructions on the wall by the suits and the helmets on their shelves. “Are we allowed in here?”

Dean nods. “I found it by accident a few months before you woke up. I… wasn’t in a good place that night. Haven’t been back since. But I want to experience this with you.”

“How does this work?” Sam asks, tracing the Homestead logo on the shoulder of the biggest suit.

“Like this.”

Dean scans his wristband and the slightly smaller suit moves forward, splitting down the middle to allow Dean to step into it. It locks shut around his body with a soft click. “You’re turn,” he says.

Sam sets his blazer aside and scans his wristband. The biggest suit moves forward. Sam climbs inside and feels the secure way it grips his body, sealing him in. He steps away from the stand, feeling the way the suit hinders certain movements and getting used to that. The suit is surprisingly easy to move in, though the boots are a little heavy.

Dean hands Sam a helmet and he puts it on. It immediately locks into place and Sam here’s a soft whoosh as the air systems engage.

“You have two hours of oxygen,” the familiar voice of the Impala’s automatic systems tells him.

There’s a soft buzz and then Sam hears Dean’s voice in his ear. “Ready?”

Sam turns to meet green eyes. “Ready.”

The airlock slides open and the two men step inside. Once the door closes behind them, Dean pulls a red lever. Sam watches the numbers on the screen above it count down. When it hits zero, the voice says “Airlock secure” and cables shoot out from holes in the wall to latch onto the backs of their suits and Dean opens the outer door.

Sam doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as Dean leads him out onto the side of the ship until they standing on the edge and he lets it out.

“Holy shit,” he breathes,

He is standing on the side of a spaceship, traveling to another planet. He never could have imagined he would get to experience something like this.

Dean reaches over and takes Sam’s hand. “Watch this,” he says. He pushes the “Release boots” button on Sam’s other wrist, and then presses his own.

Sam feels the change immediately. Suddenly he’s floating away from the ship. He freaks out for a moment, but Dean’s grip on his hand is tight and secure, and he knows he’s tethered.  He’s safe or they wouldn’t have made this an option.

“Holy shit,” he says again, turning a little to look back at the ship- the giant, silver-black mass moving almost silently through space. “Dean, this is…” he shakes his head, unable to come up with a fitting word.

Dean squeezes his hand and Sam knows he understands.

They stay out as long as they can, until the voice tells them to return to the ship before they run out of oxygen. Sam tears off his helmet and lets it fall, turning to Dean. As soon as Dean’s helmet is out of the way, Sam grabs his shoulders and leans in.

“Can I?” he asks, inches from Dean’s face.

Dean nods and Sam moves in, crashing their lips together. He feels the tension that’s been building between them release, feels Dean’s hands come up to cradle his face.

“Fuck,” Dean gasps. “My cabin or yours?”

“Whichever is closer,” Sam replies, already pushing the buttons to get out of his spacesuit.

 

Dean’s room is closer. They barely make it up the stairs to the bed. Dean loses his shirt just inside the door and Sam’s follow moments later. Sam almost trips up the stairs when he tries to kick off his shoes while walking and Dean laughs. When they tumble onto the bed, limbs already tangled, Sam realizes there’s some things they should probably discuss.

“Condoms and lube?” he asks, breathless as he straddles Dean’s thighs.

“In the nightstand,” Dean replies, fingers already working on Sam’s belt. “This place is well stocked. I’m clean.”

“Me, too, but condoms make for easier clean-up.” Sam stretches to retrieve the items, setting them beside Dean’s head on the pillow. “Do you want to top or bottom?” he inquires.

Dean chuckles. “I’m flexible.”

“Good, ‘cause I want your cock in me tonight.”

“That I can do.”

Suddenly, Sam is flipped onto his back. Dean quickly strips both of them of their pants. His fingers hesitate at the elastic of Sam’s boxers, eyes lifting to meet Sam’s.

“I want this, Dean,” Sam says, nodding.

Dean pulls Sam’s boxers down until his cock springs free, slapping against his belly. The older man leans down to lick a wide stripe from base to tip. Sam moans and his hands fly to grab at short hair. He feels Dean smile against his shaft moments before the head of his cock is enveloped in wet heat.

“Fuck!” he cries, throwing his head back against the pillow. Dean bobs his head, reaching up to grab the lube. He pops it open and spreads some on his fingers. Sam bites his lip when a finger rubs against his hole. It’s been awhile since he’s had anything back there, but he really wants this, so he breathes deeply and wills himself to relax. Dean doesn’t push his finger in, settling for gently massaging the puckered muscle as he works Sam’s cock with his mouth. He waits until Sam’s body loosens up before gently nudging his finger inside. He keeps his eyes on Sam’s face, watching his reactions as the finger moves deeper.

Dean’s free hand strokes gently up the inside of Sam’s thigh before scratching in the opposite direction. The slight pain is a nice counterpoint to the pleasure Sam feels, particularly as Dean wriggles a second finger in beside the first one, and helps keep him centered.

“Like that?” Dean asks, moving to mouth at the base of Sam’s erection.

“Uh-huh” is all Sam can manage.

Dean lifts his head and blows softly across the tip of Sam’s cock. His fingers twist inside Sam to find the younger man’s prostate, teasing around the bundle of nerves until Sam is bucking into Dean’s hands. He curls his fingers upward and grins at Sam’s sharp cry.

“How’s that feel?” Dean inquires, easing in a third finger.

“Really good,” Sam manages. “Fuck… Dean, _please_.”

“Almost there, sweetheart. Hand me a condom.”

Sam practically throws the little foil packet, desperate for Dean to move on. He’s stretched enough. He can take it. Still, he whines when Dean pulls his fingers free and his hole flutters around nothing. Dean sits up on his knees, using them to push Sam’s thighs apart. Sam bites his lip, watching Dean roll the condom on and apply some extra lubricant before lining up. He pushes in slowly, hands coming up to curl around Sam’s hips, holding him steady. Sam grabs at Dean’s wrists, tilting his hips up to urge him on.

“You feel amazing, Sam,” Dean murmurs, leaning down to press soft kisses along Sam’s collarbone. “Is this okay?”

“This is more than okay,” Sam assures him, looping his arms around Dean’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Dean bottoms out, hips grinding against Sam’s ass. He rolls his hips and Sam moans. “Fuck, that feels… _Dean._ ”

“Easy, I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Dean slides his hands up Sam’s sides, kissing him again. He sets a steady pace, allowing his hands to wander and find Sam’s most sensitive areas. He grins at the whimpers he pulls from Sam when he tweaks his nipples. Sam pushes his chest into Dean’s hands. “Oh, you like that?”

Sam nods frantically and throws his head back when Dean drives right up against his prostate. At this rate, he’s not going to last very long. “Dean, not gonna last.”

“That’s okay. Let it go, darling.” Sam keens when Dean’s hand wraps around his cock. “That’s it. Let it go.”

A few more jerks of his hand, and Sam is cumming in messy spurts over Dean’s fingers and his own belly. His body clenches down on Dean’s cock, pulling him into orgasm not long after. Dean grunts and curls, fingers digging into Sam’s shoulders tight enough to leave marks. He relaxes on top of Sam, letting his head fall forward to rest against Sam’s shoulder.

“Good?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Very.”

“Alright.” Dean carefully pulls out and disposes of the condom before laying down beside Sam. The younger man tucks himself against Dean’s side. “It’s your turn in the morning.”

“I can deal with that.”


	10. Dean

Dean is woken by soft kisses along the back of his neck. They shifted around during the night and now Sam is spooned up against his back. A strong arm is looped around his waist, fingers playing along the line of his hip.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, twisting to catch Sam’s lips in a soft, lazy kiss.

“Morning,” Sam replies, tugging Dean closer. “Sleep well?”

Dean makes an affirmative noise, lips already seeking out Sam’s again even as the younger man reaches for the lube.

“Still my turn?” Sam asks.

“Hell yes. Show me what you’ve got.”

The sex is lazy and perfect. The shower sex after is just as good, if not better. Dean’s pretty sure he’s in love with Sam’s giant hands and long fingers. And his mouth. And his cock. And pretty much everything else.

After that first date, not too much changes. It’s a few weeks before Sam officially moves into Dean’s cabin and even that doesn’t change their schedules a lot. Sam still gets up first, usually returning to the cabin around the time Dean starts to wake. This results in shower sex most mornings and it’s _awesome_. Dean is living a life he never thought he would be living. He’s got a great boyfriend and an entire space ship all to themselves, which means they can do whatever they want wherever they want.

“Really, Dean?” Sam says with a chuckle, hips bucking up into the shorter man’s hand where Dean is rubbing him through his swim trunks.

“What? It’s not like there’s anyone here to see us.” Dean grins and slides lower in the water, nudging Sam’s knees apart with his shoulders. He braces his elbows on the side of the pool and leans in to gently kiss along the dark treasure trail until he reaches Sam's waistband. Glancing up, he sees Sam biting his lip and smirks. In one swift move, he tanks Sam's trunks down to just below his balls and takes his cock as deep as he can. He almost chokes in his eagerness, but it's one hundred percent worth the sound Sam makes.

Dean has spent the last month banging Sam in every room on the ship, after Sam figured out that the security cameras don’t actually start recording until it’s time for the crew to wake up. No one will ever know what they get up to, like blowing Sam on the side of the pool. He doesn’t like to brag, but he has to admit that he’s becoming a bit of an expert in Sam’s body.

Right now, for example, he has Sam spilling all over his hand and the edge of the pool in no time. He smirks, squeezing every last drop from his lover.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Sam grumbles with no heat, shooting Dean an exasperated look.

Dean grins and lifts himself up to kiss Sam. “Oh, but what a way to go.”

Sam chuckles just before he shoves Dean backwards into the pool.

“How’s your book going?” Dean asks around the two month mark, sitting across from Sam with his breakfast tray- French toast today.

“Excellent. The interviews with you have really added to what I have so far. I kind of wish I had some more people to interview, but I also wouldn’t wish this life on anyone else.” Sam stabs a bite of his own French toast and swirls it through the syrup. “Two people awake by accident is enough.”

Dean’s throat tightens, but he works through it. “I agree.”

“I want to take a day off from writing, though. What did you do for fun before I showed up?” Sam nudges Dean’s ankle with his toes.

“Well, there’s the gym-”

“Been there,” Sam interjects with a soft laugh.

Dean rolls his eyes. “-and the arcade.”

“Oh, I saw that the other day. Is it any good?”

“For an arcade on a spaceship? Hell yes. We can check it out after breakfast.”

The first game Dean shows Sam is the high-tech, holographic version of Dance, Dance Revolution on steroids. He’s a little out of practice, seeing as he hasn’t played much since Sam woke up and even less since they got together, but the moves come back quickly and he is proud to say he thoroughly impresses Sam. The younger man is not very coordinated, looking a bit like  baby deer with his long limbs getting in his own way.

“I probably look like an idiot,” Sam pouts when he fails the easiest level yet again.

Dean shrugs and loops his arms around Sam’s waist from behind. “Yeah, but you’re an idiot with a really nice ass.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Sam twists to glare at Dean with no heat. “You only want me for my ass.”

“Well, your ass is most certainly a plus.” Dean gives said ass a playful smack and steps away. “Come on, I’ll dance with you. It’s all about practice.”

When they finally move on to another game, Sam’s still not a very good dancer, but Dean most definitely does _not_ mind. Even though Sam kicks his ass at Pac-man.

“Seriously?” Dean grumbles when he’s eaten by Sam’s blue Pac-man once again.

Sam grins, expertly maneuvering his character around the maze. “We all have to be good at something.”

“You’re lucky I- son of a bitch!”

Sam’s wild, full body laughter makes losing again worth it.


	11. Sam

Time flies quickly on the Impala. Sam spends a lot of time with Dean, but the older man still lets him have his space when he needs it. They have their ups and downs, disagreements and silent treatments and nights spent in separate cabins, but Sam thinks their relationship is very smooth for two men stuck on a ship together for the rest of their lives. The odds of them both being attracted to men makes Sam laugh to himself sometimes, but he doesn’t like to dwell on it too much. Considering his situation? He’s happy. Much happier than he ever could have imagined being when he first started this adventure.

Sam’s favorite thing is waking up next to Dean every morning. The fact that Dean doesn’t wake up with him makes it a little difficult- Sam doesn’t want to leave the warmth of his lover’s arms to go run or lift weights or whatever exercise he has planned for that day of the week. But then he gets to come back and kiss Dean awake and pull the sleepy man into the shower to start the day. He’ll never say it aloud, but Dean is adorable when he’s sleepy, all messy hair and pink cheeks and grumbles.

“Morning, Dean,” he says quietly, kneeling on the bed to layer kisses over Dean’s cheeks.

Dean hums quietly, one arm flailing until he manages to loop around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him down onto the bed.

“I’m all sweaty and gross,” Sam protests, curling one of his arms around Dean's body regardless.

“Don’t care,” Dean mumbles. He wriggles around under Sam until he can grind his morning wood against Sam’s hipbone. “Want you.”

“Oh, you do, huh?” Sam rolls his hips slowly, drawing a soft moan from Dean. “How do you want me?”

Dean has both arms hooked around Sam’s shoulders now and his face pressed against the side of the younger man’s neck. “Inside.”

“That I can do.”

Sam lifts his body up enough to strip Dean of the blankets and his boxers. When he settles back down, Dean spreads his thighs so Sam can fit between them. Dean’s skin is still sleep-soft and warm when Sam slides his hands up the older man’s sides. His thumbs brush over perky nipples and draw a soft sigh from Dean’s lips. When he’s sure Dean has been kissed enough- for now- he grabs the lube off the nightstand and slides down the bed.

Sam works Dean open with quick fingers, the process made easier by the lingering stretch and slickness from the night before- mutual masturbation isn’t something Sam really ever thought he would try, but there’s plenty of opportunities to explore new things aboard the Impala and Dean is gorgeous when he touches himself. He’s even prettier, though, when it’s Sam doing the touching.

“Look so good like this,” Sam purrs, leaving a trail of kisses up the inside of Dean’s thigh as he twists three fingers to grind against the older man’s prostate. “Think you’re ready for more?”

Dean groans, head thrown back against the pillow. “Yes.”

Sam strips off his exercise clothes and lines himself up, hands curling around Dean’s hips to hold the man steady as he presses inside. He watches Dean’s face closely, loving the way plush pink lips fall open in a silent moan even as long lashes flutter shut, casting delicate shadows across flushed, freckled cheeks.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, already setting a steady rhythm. He leans in to catch that perfect mouth with his own before Dean can respond.

Neither of them last long, but then again, neither of them mind. Sam knows when Dean is close- can see it in the tremble of his thighs and feel it in the clench of his hole around Sam’s cock, and then the smaller man is coming untouched in messy streaks over his own belly. Sam works him through it before focusing on his own pleasure. He cums deep inside Dean a few thrusts later.

“Now we really need to shower,” Dean mumbles when Sam slumps over him.

“Don’t wanna move,” Sam pouts. “This was your idea.”

Dean shoves at Sam’s shoulder with one hand. “Well, now my idea is ‘shower.’”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Do you remember what today is?” Dean asks later that afternoon, as they’re making their way through the grand concourse with fingers intertwined after a day of laziness in bed.

“No? Time always runs together here. Why do you ask?” Sam gives his lover’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Dean grins. “So, you don’t know.”

Sam is lost. “Know what?”

“Today’s your birthday, Sammy.”

Holy shit.

Sam stops in his tracks, his grip on Dean’s hand pulling the other man to a halt as well. “Wait, really?”

“Really, Sam,” Dean says with a chuckle. “You wanna go ask the kiosk the date to verify?”

“Would you be insulted if I did?”

Dean rolls his eyes and shoves Sam gently in the direction of the kiosk. “A little, but I’ll get over it.”

Sam hurries to the kiosk. The holograph lights up.

“How may I help you?” the voice asks.

“What is today's date?” Sam glanced over his shoulder to see Dean watching him patiently.

“Today is May 2nd, in the year 2153.”

Sam turns back to Dean, who's smiling smugly. “How did you know?”

“What day your birthday is? I read your passenger bio. I wanted to know.” Dean takes Sam’s hand again. “I’m sorry if that’s creepy.”

“No, it’s very thoughtful of you.” Sam leans in to kiss Dean lightly. “I’m guessing you have something planned, then?”

“I do!”

Dean takes Sam to his favorite restaurant, the one with the delicious grilled chicken sandwiches that he saves for special occasions so he doesn’t get sick of them. The robot waiters bring out a cake and sing “Happy Birthday” surprisingly well for robots.

“Shall we go see Cas?” Dean asks as they’re leaving the restaurant.

Sam is never one to turn down an opportunity to see Cas, who is a pretty decent conversationalist for an android. He’s feeling good, after a lazy morning of sex and hanging out with his lover, and now a good meal. A good drink is the perfect way to end the day before he takes Dean back to the cabin and fuck him into the mattress again.

“Hello, Sam!” Castiel says when they enter the bar. “Someone told me today is your birthday. I have a special drink planned for you.” the android is already moving, pulling bottles from the shelves behind him and mixing liquids together at an incredible speed. Sam watches, fascinated, until Cas pours the drink into a tall glass. Dean chuckles when Cas tops the pale yellow-green drink with what looks like a sprig of mint and a wedge of lime, and sets it on a napkin in front of Sam. “Happy birthday, Sam.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam replies. He eyes the drink warily, but takes a sip. It’s stronger than he expects- he can pick out lime and orange on top of the heavy whiskey flavor, with a little mint to head things off. “Mmm, wow. That’s really good, Cas. What is it?”

“A Masala Moonshine,” Cas tells him, pouring a plain whiskey for Dean. “Whiskey, Triple Sec, lime juice, club soda, mint, and turmeric juice over honey-ginger ice cubes.”

“Turmeric?” Sam lifts an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Turmeric has a variety of health benefits, including stimulating the body’s own antioxidant enzymes, improving brain function, and lowering your risk for heart disease.” Cas has already returned to cleaning glasses.

“And it makes a good drink,” Sam points out, already taking another sip. “I’m going to let you pick drinks for me more often.”

Dean pipes up. “Actually, I picked it. I thought you might like trying something new, maybe with some hidden benefits.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Dean.” Sam gives his boyfriend a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

“I’m pleased to see that things are going so well between the two of you,” Cas tells Sam. “You seem to communicate very well.”

Sam smiles, toying with the sprig of mint from his drink. “Yeah. communication is important in a relationship. We tell each other everything.”

Cas smiles. “No secrets?”

“No secrets,” Dean agrees, swirling his drink in its glass. “I’m gonna hit the head.” He gives Sam a quick kiss. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Sam smiles fondly and watches his lover go before returning to his drink.

Cas sets the glass he’s holding aside and braces his hands against the edge of the counter on his side of the bar, leaning forward slightly.

“This is excellent. You know, I’m glad Dean picked you to wake up. He was not in a good place when he saw you, but the change in him since… you’ve given him new life.”

Sam almost chokes on his drink, but he manages to cover it up. “Dean… what?” he turns just in time to see the older man renter the bar room, adjusting the buttons of his shirt sleeves. Confused green eyes meet hazel from across the room.

“What?” Dean asks, stopping in his tracks as he looks from Sam to Cas and back again.

Sam can barely get the words out past the angry heat growing in his chest. “You woke me up?”

Dean’s expression turns from confusion to horror and shame. “Sam, I was going to tell you.”

“When? On our death beds?” Sam slams down his drink and gets up. He wants to punch something- someone. “This is _your_ fault. _You_ ruined my life, Dean. How could you?”

“I didn’t want to,” Dean says quietly. “But I was so lonely, and I just-”

“Figured you would condemn another person to die on this godforsaken ship? You _stole_ my _life_ from me. There is never a reason good enough to make that okay.”

“Sam, I-”

He clenches his fists at his sides and crosses the room in a few giant strides. Dean doesn’t make any attempt to defend himself before Sam’s knuckles connect with his jaw, and the blow sends him reeling into a table. Another blow brings him to his knees before Sam drags him back to his feet by the front of his shirt.

“Stay away from me,” Sam growls, face inches from Dean’s. “I hate you.”

He throws Dean to the floor again and stalks out of the bar. As soon as he’s out of Dean’s sight, he breaks into a run. He goes to Dean cabin purely out of muscle memory and is tempted to destroy as much as he can, but he needs to be the better man in this situation and so settles for gathering all of his things. He shoves clothes haphazardly into his bags- he’s not going far- and scours the room for anything he may have forgotten before lugging the bags down the hall to a room he hasn’t set foot in for months.

Sam sets his bags on the floor at the foot of his bed and sits heavily on the edge of the mattress. The bed is still perfectly made, every inch of the room spotless thanks to the cleaning robots, and it feels all wrong, but nowhere on this ship feels right anymore- not now that he knows the truth.


	12. Dean

Dean sits on the floor where he fell for a long time after Sam is gone.

“Dean-” Cas begins when the man finally gets up.

“Save it, Cas,” Dean snaps. He downs the rest of his whiskey before storming out of the bar.

He takes his time getting to their cabin, half hoping Sam will be there so he can plead his case, but he knows it's too soon. Sam is hurting and nothing Dean says will fix that. He hesitates outside the door of the cabin, unsure of what he’ll find inside.

Nothing.

He finds nothing.

All of Sam’s things are gone. None of his shoes are on the mat by the door, none of his toiletries are in the bathroom. Dean flies up the stairs and yanks open the closet. The sight of empty space where Sam’s clothes used to be is like a knife in Dean’s chest. He stumbles back until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down heavily, staring at the bare half of the closet.

Taking a deep breath, Dean rubs his hands over his face and falls back on the bed, shifting around until he’s lying on what was Sam’s pillow. It still smells like the younger man.

Dean feels like an idiot- he is an idiot. He never should have lied to Sam. He never should have woken Sam up in the first place and he knows that, but a part of him can’t bring himself to regret it. If  he hadn’t woken Sam, Dean would most likely be dead now. Sam doesn’t understand that, but hopefully someday he will and hopefully someday he’ll be able to forgive Dean.

Dean leaves Sam be for a few weeks, giving the young man his space- not hard on a ship of this size. He spends a lot of time in the computer room, watching Sam through the cameras even though he knows it’s creepy as hell and would only make Sam more upset if he found out. They begin alternating nights with Castiel without ever talking, after the first time Dean walks into the bar and finds Sam chatting with the android.

It’s almost worse than before Sam, honestly. Dean has never felt more alone in his life, watching the man he loves from a distance and knowing he can’t have him. He’s sure Sam will eventually come back to him, since there’s no one else on the ship, but he’s also sure it won’t be any time soon. It could be years, really, and Dean doesn’t blame Sam one bit. Dean’s the one who made a stupid decision that did really ruin someone else’s life. He’s not sure he’ll ever forgive himself.

Dean leans his elbows on the desk, watching Sam talk with Cas for a little longer before deciding he’s better off in bed. He crosses the grand concourse, catching a glimpse of the lights from the bar as he does so, and makes his way down to the cabin levels. The cabin feels unbearably empty without Sam in it, but he can’t bring himself to move. Like there’s a small part of him that’s afraid Sam won’t be able to find him if he does. It’s ridiculous, he’s aware, but he doesn’t really care.

The bed is impossibly huge around him. He lays in the center every night, but always finds he’s gravitated to “his” side by morning. If he sleeps at all.

Tonight was a night for sleep, until around one in the morning when Dean is woken by something heavy landing on top of him. He’s half asleep, but his body recognizes the weight and smell of Sam, even with the alcohol on his breath.

A fist to the cheekbone is not what Dean was expecting, but he rolls with it. A second punch lands, this one from the other side. Sam’s drunk and upset, and Dean doesn’t fight it. He lets Sam take his anger out on his body, until the younger man slumps sideways with a quiet sob. He sits there a moment, body shaking. Dean wants to hold him, comfort him, but that’s not his place. Not anymore. Instead, he lays still and closes his eyes against his own tears until Sam drags himself from the bed and vanishes down the stairs. Only when he hears the door slide shut does he allow the tears to fall. He can’t move- he’s in too much pain and he’s going to be in even more pain in the morning, but anything that helps Sam feel better is worth it.

The next morning, Dean feels like a walking bruise. He knows he’s moving a little funny and when he passes Sam in the Grand Concourse, he sees a little bit of guilt on the younger man’s face.

“Don’t,” he murmurs to Sam. “I deserve worse.”

Sam ducks his head and hurries away. Dean feels awful but it’s the truth. He knows it, Sam knows it. The younger man has a big heart. That gives Dean a little bit of hope.

He finds himself in the computer room again. Sam has gone back to his cabin and Dean can’t see in there, so he busies himself with poking around the system. He’s never been a genius with computers, but a machine is a machine and a system is a system. There’s a pattern and order to how these things work. Once he figures it out, his options really open up.

Sam is finished with his warm-up stretches when Dean realizes he can hack the intercom. It takes him a few minutes of poking before he gets in and he’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do when he gets there, but Dean is nothing if not curious.

The intercom system covers the majority of the ship, including the cabins and, of course, the Grand Concourse where Sam is running. Dean could get on the intercom and tell Sam how sorry he is, how badly he screwed up, how Sam has every right to be angry at him- but that won’t help. It will only upset Sam more. What the man needs is time. Lots and lots of time.

“At least we won’t be running out of that,” Dean mutters to himself as he watches a cleaning bot run itself into the wall over and over.

He frowns and pulls up the cameras, looking for other bots. There’s one near Sam doing the same thing and as he watches, the man pauses in his run to gently turn the bot in the right direction. On another camera, one of the drone cleaning bots crashes to the ground next to the kiosk.

Something is very wrong.


	13. Sam

“Who the hell are you?”

Sam has been sitting on the edge of the fountain editing his manuscript for almost an hour and he’s so focused on his task that he didn’t hear the elevator. He startles, whirling to face the unfamiliar voice- an older, heavyset man in a uniform. He scrambles to his feet, already hearing Dean’s rapidly approaching footsteps. Before Sam can respond, Dean rounds the corner out of the computer room. He’s been spending a lot of time there lately.

Sam recovers first. “Sam Wesson,” he says, circling the fountain to shake the man’s hand. “This is… this is Dean Winchester.”

“Captain Bobby Singer,” the stranger says. His tone is gruff, but his eyes are friendly and Sam feels at ease with him. “Now, can someone tell me what the hell happened? Where is everyone.”

“Asleep.” Sam hasn’t heard Dean’s voice in months. He sounds like he hasn’t slept in about as much time. “Our pods malfunctioned. Yours must have, too, because it’s still way too early for people to be awake.”

“How early?” Captain Singer asks, the lines in his brow deepening.

“Almost ninety years.”

“What?” Captain Singer is shaking his head. “No, that’s not possible. The pods can’t malfunction.”

“Yeah, well, they did.” Dean’s tone is bitter. He folds his arms over his chest. “Guess they’re not as infallible as you thought.”

“No, if you’re both awake and I’m awake, then something is seriously wrong with this ship.”

Captain Singer gestures for them to follow him. he leads the way to the bridge, where he taps his wristband and the voice greets him with “Good morning, Captain Singer” before the door slides open. The room begins to light up, computers whirring to life and screens blinking on, when he steps inside. He heads straight for a large hologram console in the center of the room, but Sam and Dean linger in the doorway, sharing a questioning look. After so much time being locked out of this room, it almost feels like a sacred space they’re not allowed into.

“You can come in,” Captain Singer tells them without looking up from whatever he’s doing. “Just don’t _touch_ anything.”

Sam hurries to the older man’s side, holding onto the seams of his pants to make sure he doesn’t touch anything, even by accident. Dean moves slowly, eyes wandering over all the screens and systems as he circles the room. He reaches to touch the back of the captain’s chair, but jerks his hand back like he’s been burned when Singer glares at him.

“The newest scans aren’t telling me anything useful,” Singer grumbles. “But something has caused an increase in power usage. If I can find when this started, we can hopefully fix the problem.” He pokes a few buttons and the hologram changes to show the energy levels for the last few day.

“There,” Sam says, pointing at the spot where the line suddenly starts increasing. “What day is that.”

“February nineteenth,” Singer reads, selecting that date. “According to this log, the ship encountered a planned for meteor field. There was damage, but the ship repaired itself, except for” he turns to look at Dean “your pod. It was stupid, but everyone was so sure the pods would never fail that there wasn’t much of a back-up system put into place.”

Dean glares. “Yeah. We know.”

Singer ignores him. “Unfortunately, the diagnostic systems are down. We’re going to have to run manual diagnostics.” He rubs a hand over his forehead. “But I need to rest first. This can wait a few hours while I sleep.”

Sam should honestly sleep, too- it’s pretty late- but he’s too keyed up now. So he follows the other men down to the cabins, but only lingers in his own long enough to put on his swimsuit and grab his towel.

The pool he goes to is one of a few on the ship, but it’s his favorite. One end is enclosed in a bubble of the same glass that makes up every window on the ship, which allows him to feel like he’s floating in space without the actual space walking. He hasn’t gone back to the spacewalk room since he found out the truth about Dean. It just doesn’t feel right.

Sam starts with some warm up laps before he really starts to swim. He loses himself in each stroke, in the repetition and the rhythm of his breathing. He’s not sure how long he swims for, but his muscles are aching when he comes to a stop at the side of the pool. He lingers there to catch his breath before beginning his cooldown laps. Once he’s done with those, he rolls over on his back and allows himself to float across the surface, closing his eyes and just enjoying the warm water against his skin.

He doesn’t feel the change right off the bat. In fact, he almost doesn’t notice at all, until water suddenly covers his face and his eyes snap open.

Panic immediately kicks in when he realizes he’s in a bubble of water floating almost twenty feet above the now empty pool. He manages to take a  deep breath before he’s pulled under the surface. He tries to swim to the surface, but that’s not as easy in a weightless atmosphere. He has nothing to push against, no sense of up or down as the water spins him, and he’s running out of air. His chest burns, his lungs desperate for a breath even as he fights to keep from inhaling.

His visions ia flickering black along the edges and his limbs are starting to feel funny when he feels the change. Suddenly he’s falling, water crashing down around him and splashing up over the sides of the pool. His shoulder hits something hard and jerks his body into semi-awareness with the sudden pain.

“Sam!”

Familiar calloused hands take hold of his arms, lifting him from the water and laying him on the cool, wet concrete. He’s rolled onto his side when his body begins coughing reflexively. A hand rubs soothing circles on his upper back.

“Dean?” he manages between coughs. “How-?”

“Easy, don’t try to talk,” Dean soothes. “You almost drowned. Shit, Sam, I’ve never been so afraid in my life.” He reaches to touch Sam’s face, but jerks back suddenly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t. I can… I can go.”

He moves to stand, but Sam grabs his wrist to stop him. Green eyes meet hazel.

“You can stay.” Sam’s voice feels rough, his lungs still sore. “What happened?”

“Gravity went out,” Dean explains, sitting down again. Now that’s he’s paying more attention, Sam notices that Dean is drenched. “I came to see if you wanted to get a head start on running diagnostics. I managed to grab onto that rail.” He gestures to the rails on the side of the pool steps. “Sam, I thought I was going to watch you die.”

Sam shakes his head and sits up. “Not dying yet.”

“But when you do, it’ll be my fault,” Dean says bitterly. “I stole your life, Sam. I can’t believe you’re even speaking to me. What I did was so wrong and there is no way to justify it. I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough, I know you have no reason to ever forgive me, but I need to tell you that.”

Before Sam can respond, Dean scrambles to his feet and runs from the room. Sam stares after him. A confusing swirl of emotions makes his chest feel tight. He doesn’t want to forgive Dean- he knows he has every reason not to- but he can see where Dean was when he made that decision and it makes not forgiving him harder.


	14. Dean

He can’t sleep.

Dean hasn’t been sleeping well since Sam left him, so this is nothing new to him. He wanders the ship, not really paying attention to where he’s going, but he usually finds himself in the hibernation pod room. Tonight is no different.

Tonight he’s not alone, though. He’s surprised to find Captain Singer kneeling beside Sam’s pod.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Dean asks, fighting back the nervousness in his chest.

“Something about the hibernation pods was bothering me,” the older man says. “This is interesting. Your pod was a genuine malfunction, but Sam’s…” he taps one finger against the side of the pod “is another story.”

“I know,” Dean says quietly.

“Does he know?”

“He knows.”

Singer nods and pushes himself to his feet. “Boy, you’re lucky he hasn’t pushed you out of an airlock.”

“I know.” Dean hugs himself. “And if he wanted to, I would let him. It’s better than I deserve.”

“It is and so is he.” He chuckles at Dean’s confusion. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s angry- rightfully so- but he loves you.”

Dean shakes his head. It can’t be true. There’s no way Sam holds anything but hatred in his heart for Dean. “That’s a nice thought, but not possible. Don’t get my hopes up, okay?”

“I won’t, but you need to talk to him. Things will never change if you don’t talk.”

Singer picks up his tool kit and walks away, leaving Dean alone with his own thoughts. He rubs his hand over his face with a sigh, gazing around him at the sleeping faces of his fellow passengers and Sam’s empty pod.

He has a feeling Sam isn’t asleep either. This time of night, Sam’s prefered workout is swimming, so Dean heads to the young man’s favorite pool.

Sam is floating on his back near the edge of the pool, clearly finished with his workout. Dean goes to the corner, grabbing onto one of the rails down into the pool.

Before he can get Sam’s attention, something changes. He feels it immediately. His feet are not on the ground. In fact, his whole body feels- and is- weightless.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, grabbing the rail with both hands. Holding himself in place is surprisingly  easy. He glances up, looking for Sam, and almost lets go in his panic. “Sam!”

Sam is trapped in the huge bubble of water now floating above the empty pool. Dean can see him trying to get to air, but struggling in the lack of gravity. Helpless to do anything, Dean can see that he’s quickly growing weaker.

Suddenly, Dean lands hard on the edge of the pool. He’s pretty sure his knees are skinned and bleeding, but his focus is on pulling Sam out of the water. He rolls Sam on his side, rubbing his back when the man begins to shake with forceful coughs.

“Dean?” Sam gasps out. “How-?”

“Easy, don’t try to talk,” Dean soothes. “You almost drowned. Shit, Sam, I’ve never been so afraid in my life.” He reaches to touch Sam’s face, but pulls back before actually making contact. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t. I can… I can go.”

He moves to stand, but Sam grabs his wrist to stop him. Green eyes meet hazel.

“You can stay.” Sam’s voice is quiet, worn. “What happened?”

“Gravity went out,” Dean explains, sitting down again. “I came to see if you wanted to get a head start on running diagnostics. I managed to grab onto that rail.” he gestures to the rail he was hanging onto. “Sam, I thought I was going to watch you die.”

Sam shakes his head, pushing himself upright. “Not dying yet.”

“But when you do, it’ll be my fault,” Dean says bitterly. “I stole your life, Sam. I can’t believe you’re even speaking to me. What I did was so wrong and there is no way to justify it. I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough, I know you have no reason to ever forgive me, but I need to tell you that.”

Before Sam can respond, Dean pushes himself to his feet and runs from the room. He can’t believe he just told Sam all that. It probably won’t make a difference anyways, but a small part of him can’t help hoping it does.

Dean finds Singer in the Grand Concourse. The older man is moving a little slowly, like he’s hurting from a fall.

“You okay?” Singer asks, lifting an eyebrow at Dean.

He glances down at himself and makes a face when he sees the blood stains on the knees of his jeans. “I landed pretty hard.”

Sam appears then, still dressed in just his swimsuit, now with a t-shirt on top. His hair is still wet, dripping onto his shoulders. Dean doesn’t let himself look.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asks. “I was swimming, and then suddenly the gravity was _gone_? I almost drowned!”

“Something like this should never have happened,” Singer tells them. “Things like this can only happen if there’s damage to the engine room and it’s drawing power from the rest of the ship.”

“The engine room? Well, can the ship’s computer tell us what’s wrong?” Sam folds his arms over his chest, shifting nervously.

Singer shakes his head. “The diagnostic system is on the fritz, remember? We’ll have to look for it manually.”


	15. Dean

The engine room is on the level below the hibernation pods. It’s a huge room that takes up the majority of the floor, and Dean wants to groan like a little kid when he sees it.

“Searching this whole place is gonna take forever,” Dean says, leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs leading down to the floor of the engine room.

“Then we better get started,” Singer grunts, already making his way down the stairs.

Sam and Dean follow. All three of them have a diagnostics tablet, so they can split up and hopefully cover the huge room a little faster. Dean goes left, Singer goes right, and Sam heads down the middle. The plan is to meet on the far end, or wherever they find the damage.

Dean’s halfway through the room when he hears Sam’s yell. It’s not a panicked, scared, or hurt yell, but he goes running anyway. He finds Sam standing by a big room of sorts that’s standing alone.

“This door won’t open,” Sam says, gesturing to it as Singer approaches from the other side. “Is that normal?”

Singer shakes his head, frowning at the very closed door. “No, all the doors down here are supposed to open in the event of a manual diagnostic check.”

“Can you manually override it?” Dean questions.

“Of course.” Captain Singer scans his wristband and pushes some buttons on the panel. “You boys better hold onto something, ‘cause there’s no way to know what we’re going to find in here.”

They both grab onto the closest rail- in true space ship style, the engine room is covered in them. Captain Singer takes hold of a railing as well and pushes one last button.

The door slides open and Dean is immediately yanked off his feet. He faintly hears Sam shout before the sound swept away in the vacuum rush of air out of the room. He may not be an expert on starships, but he knows enough to be able to tell that there is a hole in this one.

“Someone has to get into the room!” Singer cries, barely audible of the noisy whoosh of air. “We need to close the hole!”

Before Dean can say anything, Sam swings himself the best he can to grab onto a rail closer to the door. Like the beast he is, he slowly maneuvers himself through the doorway. Dean follows, grabbing what at first glance looks like a fire extinguisher from Singer as he goes. It’s designed differently, though, with a simply point and shoot nozzle like a can of compressed air.

“Cover the hole with this,” he orders.

The hole isn’t as big as he was expecting, not even a foot across, but it’s causing a lot of problems. Dean’s not sure he or Sam can get the can close enough to spray whatever it is on the hole.

“Dean, go!” Sam yells suddenly, sliding his tablet across the floor.

It heads straight for the hole, but is too big to go through. Instead, it forms a temporary seal like a hand over the hose of a vacuum cleaner and gives Dean enough time to get in closer and spray what looks like slime, but quickly hardens into something closer to concrete, over the whole thing. He feels the moment that the hole is completely closed. Something about the ship seems to relax.

“You two make a good team,” Singer observes. “But there’s no way that’s the only problem. We need to follow the trail of whatever it was- I’m assuming a meteor- and assess the damage.”

The meteor left a pretty clear path through the ship. They go up a level, to an area near the hibernation pod room that Dean’s never been to because he didn’t have the access. Captain Singer gets them in easily.

“Welcome to the fusion reactor control room,” he says as the boys stare at the giant ball of radiation and fire that powers the ship. “And that is our problem.”

He points to a large, disc shaped machine against one wall. It’s divided into sections and buried in one section is a meteor.

It’s bigger than Dean expected, and really just looks like a regular rock to him. Sam seems fascinated, but also like he’s trying really hard to keep the part of him that wants to nerd out under control.

“We’ll need to replace this,” Singer says with a sigh, examining the damaged section. “But this isn’t my area. I’m not entirely sure how any of this works.”

“There’s probably something in one of the ship’s manuals,” Dean says. “With that and the right tools, I can figure it out.”

“Engineer?” Singer asks.

“Yes, sir. Just give me a few minutes to get everything I need. Sam, I’ll probably need your help.”

The manuals are still on their shelf in the storage room just off of the hibernation pod room. Dean finds the one about the fusion reactor and flips through it until he sees pictures that look like the damaged machine. Skimming that section, he gathers the tools he needs into a bag. Now they just need to find the box of extra parts.

“Sam, help me find box D14,” Dean says, looking up from the manual. He stiffens when he sees Sam looking at another, very familiar manual.

“This is how you knew how to wake me up, isn’t it?” Sam asks softly, glancing over at him.

“Yes,” Dean admits.

Sam nods, closing the book with a sharp snap. “D14?”

Apparently he doesn’t want to talk about this now, which is probably a good thing, because they need to hurry. “Yeah, it should be down here somewhere.”

Dean leads the way deeper into the storage room, but Sam spots the crate first. They crack it open to find enough extra pieces to build a whole new machine and then some. The pieces aren’t heavy, so Sam carries one of them while Dean brings the bag of tools and the manual.

Working together, the three men are able to remove the damaged piece and replace it with the new one. Dean’s still not entirely sure what the machine does, but it seems to have something to do with regulating the fusion reactor core- a.k.a. the white center of the swirling mass of fire and radiation on the other side of the special glass window.

“We need to manually vent the reactor,” Singer instructs, examining the final paragraph of directions in the manual. “That will reset the machine and get everything running.”

“I’m guess this lever that’s labelled ‘Vent Reactor’ is how we do that,” Sam says, pointing out the label on the control panel.

“Pull it, Sam. Once that’s done, the first round is on me.”

Sam pulls the lever. The reactor flares, flames licking the glass in a concerning manner, but then reverts back to it’s original state as a red warning light above the lever begins to flash.

“Shit, this says there’s something keeping the door from opening,” Sam says. He turns his worried puppy-dog look on them. “What do we do?”

Captain Singer shakes his head, looking just as concerned. “That means someone’s going to have to open the door from the outside.”


	16. Dean

Dean has never space walked this far before. He’s worried, as he makes his way along the outside of the ship, that the cord will be too short and he won’t be able to get all the way to the vent, but as he reaches the end of the cord, he feels it detach before being replaced with a new one that shoots out of a hole a few feet away. It clicks into place in the small of his back and he continues.

The tunnel down to the vent is a good fifteen feet long and at least seven or eight feet in diameter. By the time he reaches the vent itself, he’s reached the end of his second cord. A new one reattaches from a hole right by the door.

“I’m at the vent,” he says.

“Let us know when you’re out of the way,” Sam tells him, voice slightly distorted by the speakers. “Please hurry. The reactor is flaring up more.”

Dean takes a moment to examine the vent and the controls around it. It’s not hard to find the handle to manually open the vent. He turns it and the big metal door slides open. He can see the fusion reactor at the base of the tunnel. It does look more out of control than when he last saw it.

He makes sure the door is open all the way. The lever should lock into place, giving him time to get safely out of the way before Singer vents the reactor, but as soon as he lets go, the door slides shut.

“Shit,” he gasps, opening it again. Again, it refuses to stay open when he lets go. “The door isn’t staying open.”

“Can you prop it with something?” Singer’s voice comes down the line.

“There’s nothing to prop it with. I’m going to have to hold it.”

“Dean, no,” Sam says. “Come back in. We’ll find another way.”

“There’s no time.”

“You could die!”

“Better me than five thousand people. We don’t have another option. I’m holding the door open. Pull the lever.”

“I can’t do that, Dean.”

Dean can see the reactor spinning out of control, can hear Singer telling Sam that if they don’t vent it, it will explode and take the ship with it. Dean hold the lever as steady as he can and closes his eyes.

He feels the heat first. It comes rushing towards him, a physical wall that pushes him backwards and throws him from the tunnel. The cord yanks on his waist for less than a second before snapping. His whole body hurts, shaken from the force of the blast.

“Dean? Dean!”

“Sam,” he groans. He can hear a beeping, a warning voice telling him his suit has been breached.

“Dean, hang out, I’m coming to get you.”

“Sam,” he sighs. “I want you to know… that I love you. I really do. I know I have a funny way of showing it, I know, but… I’m glad I got to know you. I’m sorry I messed up your life. You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Dean, don’t talk like that. I’m getting in a suit now.”

He’s running out of oxygen. Each breath is harder and less fulfilling, and his head feels dizzy. His vision is blurring around the edges. “Sam, I love you.”


	17. Sam

No, no, no…

Sam frantically climbs into a spacesuit. His hands are shaking, his heart pounding. Singer is still in the reactor room, making sure everything is back under control. He took one look at Sam’s face and told him to “go get his man” and that was all the encouragement Sam needed.

It takes him a moment to see Dean. The other man is floating slowly away from the ship, his broken tether trailing behind him. Sam throws himself off the side of the ship. Dean is moving slowly, but Sam feels like he’s moving even slower. His heart is pounding in his chest so hard he can feel it in his ears. He wants to scream, but he can’t make any noise. He wonders is this is how Dean felt when he watched Sam almost drown earlier. Helpless. Terrified. Like he wants to throw up and cry at the same time.

It’s there. Right at the tip of his fingertips. An inch further and he curls his hand around the end of the tether just as he reaches the end of his own. Once he has that, he can reel Dean in. the other man is impossibly still and when he gets close enough, he can see the glass of his helmet is cracked. It's not thought-and-through, but the pressure of space is going to change that if Sam doesn't act fast.

“No, no, no. Dean!” he shakes the unconscious man. “Computer, pull me in!”

“Of course.”

Sam holds tight to Dean as he’s pulled backwards, eyes searching for any sign of life. Dean is still- too still- and it makes Sam’s stomach twist. His feet hit the floor of the airlock. As soon as it seals and pressurizes, Dean crumples against him.

Singer is waiting on the other side of the inner door. He takes Dean’s weight, stripping him of the spacesuit while Sam removes his own.

“We need to get him to the infirmary,” Singer says. “Help me lift him.”

“If he gonna be okay?” Sam asks, grabbing Dean’s feet.

“I don’t know, but everything that can help him is there. We’ll get him into the auto diagnosis machine and go from there.”

The infirmary is up a level and too far for Sam’s liking, but it’s their only option. Dean’s skin is cold under his hands as he helps Singer heave the man’s limp form onto a table in the center of one of the rooms just beyond the waiting area.

Singer powers up the machine and a glass cover closes over Dean. Sam rocks nervously on the balls of his feet as blue light scans Dean’s body.

“Patient is deceased,” the all-too-familiar voice of the ship announces.

“No!”

Singer startles at the outburst, jumping back when Sam slams his hands against the glass. He whirls on the other man, pushing him out of the way to get to the touch screen of the computer. There’s a big button in one corner that reads “resuscitate”. Sam pushes it. A list of options appears and he selections all of them before pressing “start”.

“Override code required,” the voice says.

“Sam-” Singer starts.

“Do it!” Sam shouts.

Singer steps in and recites a few numbers to the computer. As soon as he finishes, the machine comes alive. Dozens of robotic arms fly over Dean’s body, performing every method of resuscitation Sam’s ever heard of and several he hasn’t. then, as abruptly as it started, it all stops.

“Resuscitation unsuccessful.”

The glass slides open as Sam hears someone screaming- he’ll realize later that it’s his own. He pulls himself onto the table, pounding his fists against Dean’s chest.

“You can’t leave me, Dean!” he wails. It feels like his heart is being torn from his chest as he shakes the man beneath him. Nothing ever has or ever will hurt this much. “I _need_ you. do you hear me? I need you here. I can’t do this without you. _Please_ …”


	18. Dean

The first thing he’s aware of is a familiar weight that’s settled across his thighs and torso. The next thing is pain- a steady ache that starts in his head and chest and spreads throughout his whole body. Then he hears- soft sobs and a voice he’s missed whispering his name.

“Sam?” he murmurs, voice barely audible even to himself.

Sam gasps, sitting up. A sharp blow to his cheek pushes him further into wakefulness. “Dean Winchester, don’t you _ever_ do that again!” before he can respond, Sam pulls his head up into a kiss. “I thought I lost you, Dean. I can’t lose you.”

“What happened?” Dean forces his eyes open enough to see Sam’s tear-streaked face through his lashes.

“You _died_.” Sam makes a strangled noise in his throat and kisses Dean again. He cradles Dean’s head in his hands with a tenderness he hasn’t shown in months.

“I don’t feel dead,” Dean says quietly, curling his arms around Sam’s trembling body. He can feel little drops of water wetting the front of his t-shirt.

“You were dead, son,” Singer tells him. “But we were able to resuscitate you. I’m going to the bridge to check on things. You two… take all the time you need.”

Dean nods, holding tighter to Sam. Singer vanishes out the door.

“M’ sorry,” Dean mumbles, turning his head to press a kiss to Sam’s hair.

“I can’t do this without you,” Sam chokes out. “I can’t. I’m still so mad about what you did, but Dean” he lifts his head “I can’t do this alone. I love you.”

“You can be mad at me as long as you need,” Dean promises. “I will keep loving you for as long as it takes.”

“I realize that now.” Sam’s fingers trace over the side of Dean’s face. “We need each other, Dean. I haven’t forgiven you, but I still love you and I think that’s a good place to start.”

“I agree.” Now it’s Dean’s turn to kiss Sam. “Wanna let me up? We should go see if Singer needs help.” When Sam shakes his head and buries his face in Dean’s shoulder. Dean chuckles. “Or we can stay here a little longer. I’m okay with that.”

Dean would think almost dying would’ve had a greater effect on his body, but Sam takes great care to make sure that doesn’t happen. They spend time every day in the infirmary for weeks, so Sam can make sure he’s recovering just fine. Dean lets him fuss. It gives him the chance to study the auto-diagnosis machine- or “auto-doc” for short, according to the manuals Dean finds. He reads each over thoroughly, memorizing all the ins and outs of the machine until he’s figured out exactly what he’s looking for.

“Sam, I have to show you something,” he says one morning during breakfast. He’s already told Singer this plan and the older man is on board. Dean has a feeling Sam will be, too.

“Alright,” Sam says cheerfully.

After they return their trays, Dean leads the way down to the infirmary. “I was messing around with the auto-doc and I found something,” he tells Sam. He pushes buttons on the computer until he reaches the screen he’s looking for. “See, they have the capability to put a body in a short or long term state of homeostasis. It’s intended for situations where they need to keep a patient stable until the proper care arrives, but it functions just like-”

“- a hibernation pod,” Sam finishes, running his hand along the side of the table.

Dean nods. “It has to be turned on from the outside. If I can get one of the infirmary’s robots up and running, it can turn on the machines for us and we can all go back into hibernation until it’s actually time to wake up.”

“All of us?” Sam verifies.

“All of us.”

Sam yanks Dean is for a fierce kiss, pressing their bodies tightly together. Things between them have been getting better, but they haven’t gone all the way yet. Dean isn’t expecting Sam to growl “my cabin” against his lips.

It’s almost their first night all over again. They stumble up the stairs to Sam’s bed, frantically pulling off their clothes as they go. Sam throws Dean onto the bed and crawls on top of him, using his strength and weight to pin the man down.

“I need to be inside you,” Sam hisses, grinding their erections together. “Is that okay?”

“Hell yes.”

“Good.”

Sam grabs the lube from his nightstand and pours a liberal amount over his fingers. Dean spread his legs wide, welcoming Sam into his body.

He hasn’t touched himself since that last morning before Sam found out the truth, so it takes much longer for Sam to open him up. Sam doesn’t seem to mind. He takes his time stretching Dean slowly until he can easily take three fingers.

“Ready?” he asks, pulling his fingers free and lining up his cock.

Dean nods. Sam pushes in and Dean’s body arches with a moan. He forgot how _big_ Sam is; how much he stretches and pushes and practically rearranges Dean’s organs.

“You okay?” Sam inquires, rolling his hips lightly to encourage Dean’s body to relax.

“Uh-huh,” Dean gasps out. His hands grab at Sam’s shoulders in an attempt to steady himself. “Fuck, _Sam_.”

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Fucking move.”

Sam grins, chuckling, but obeys. He starts with long, steady strokes that rub right up against Dean’s prostate on every inward push. Despite all their time apart, he still knows how to play Dean’s body. He curls in to wrap perfect pink lips around one perky nipple, smirking at the sound it pulls out of Dean.

“So beautiful,” he coos, breath warm across the wet peak. “Love the sounds you make. I’ve missed this.”

Dean tugs Sam up into a kiss. “I’ve missed it, too.”

Sam presses his face into Dean’s neck, biting and sucking marks there. His hips grind into Dean’s. There’s no rush of desperation. Just a slow push and pull of two bodies, gradually working toward orgasm.

“Sam, I’m close,” Dean breathes.

“That’s alright. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all the encouragement Dean needs. He spills messily between their bellies with a groan, clenching down so hard on Sam’s cock that the other man can barely move. Sam jerks above Dean, grunting out his own orgasm. Dean can feel the warmth of it inside his hole.

“I love you,” Sam sighs.

“I love you, too.”

They cuddle together a bit longer, riding out the little trembles of the aftershocks. Dean strokes Sam’s hair, feeling the softness of it against his cheek.

“Do we want to go into hibernation tonight?” he asks later, when they’re washing each other’s bodies in Sam’s shower.

Sam nods. “Let’s move all your stuff into my cabin first, okay? Don’t want some poor guy to wake up and find that someone’s been living in his room.”

Dean laughs. “Good idea. I can just put it back in my old room, though.”

“No, I want it here. I don’t want to have to just move it all in here after we wake up.”

“Move it all… up here?” Dean stares at him. “Sam, are you asking me to move in with you?”

Sam blushes, ducking his head. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Dean smiles and kisses him softly. “I would love to move in with you.”

After their shower, Sam helps Dean get all his stuff packed up and safely stored in Sam’s room. Once all that is done, they find Singer and head down to the infirmary. With the help of the two men, Dean is easily able to get one of the bots up and running. He gives it the instruction as the manual said he should. Now all they can do is hope for the best. He volunteers to go last so Sam and Bobby don’t have to worry about it malfunctioning.

“You first, Commander,” Dean says, gesturing to the auto-doc.

“Please, call me Bobby,” the officer says. “We’ve been through enough together. I think you’ve earned it.”

Dean grins. “Thanks. Guess I’ll see you on the other side, then.”

“I suppose you will.”

Once Bobby is settled, Dean turns on the hibernation setting for the auto-doc. The machine hums softly and Bobby stills with a sigh.

“Patient is in hibernation,” the computer announces.

Dean relaxes and turns to Sam. “Ready?”

Sam nods. They go to the next room and Sam gets up onto the table. Before he lays down, he grabs Dean’s wrist and pulls him in for one last kiss.

“If something goes wrong and you can’t get into hibernation,” he says quietly. “Wake me up.”

“You’re sure?” Dean asks.

“I’m sure.”

Dean smiles, gently brushing Sam’s hair back from his face. “I will. I promise. But nothing’s going to go wrong. I’ll see _you_ ” he taps Sam’s nose “when it’s time to wake up.”

That brightens Sam’s mood a bit. “Okay. Night, Dean.”

Dean likes that. Better than saying goodbye. They’re just going to go to sleep, and when they wake up, they’ll see each other again. He presses a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Night, Sam. I love you.”

Once Sam is settled in his auto doc and the computer informs Dean that he’s in hibernation, Dean heads to his own auto-doc where the infirmary robot is waiting. He lays down a little reluctantly, nervous to leave his life in the hands of a robot. He turned the computer screen so he can see it, though, and make sure that it pushes all the right buttons.

He’s barely processed the robot pushing the “activate” button on the hibernation screen when everything goes black.


	19. Epilogue - Sam

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam glances over his shoulder and grins at the sight before him- Dean standing in the doorway of their kitchen in nothing but a towel.

“Good morning to you, too, Mr. Winchester,” the younger man says playfully, setting down his coffee mug. He scoots his chair away from the table- Dean is still so proud of this table- and turns his body to face his husband. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“ _Someone_ woke up without his husband,” the words are harsh, but Dean’s tone is light. He crosses the kitchen to straddle Sam’s jean-clad thighs, dropping the towel as he goes.

“Mmmm, well, now _someone_ is apparently trying to give our neighbors a show.”

Sam jerks his head at the window and Dean turns a little to see Bobby working in his yard across the street. His wife is coming out their front door with a glass of water. Dean reddens and dashes across the room to close the curtains before they see anything.

“Oops,” Sam says with a laugh, crossing the room to gather Dean into his arms. “Now, do you want me to take you here? Or in our bed?”

“Bed,” Dean says without hesitation.

“Your wish is my command.”

As Sam lifts Dean up and carries him down the hall of their hand-crafted house to their bedroom, Dean feels grateful for the fact that Sam decided to stay longer than a year on Homestead II. He- and Dean- will be taking the ship that comes in a few years time, if they so choose. Dean is glad he chose to board the Impala, even though he does miss Earth a little.

Who knows. Maybe one day he’ll see it again. For now, they’re going to make this planet a home.


End file.
